


Damaged Goods: Two-For-One Deal

by roadkill_punk (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Chara is about as emotionally savvy as a brick, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/roadkill_punk
Summary: pppbbbbhhhht chara and frisk both had awful childhoods and they're healing together





	Damaged Goods: Two-For-One Deal

The mechanics of dreaming while sharing a body are strange; you come along for the ride, but you can’t interact or interfere with anything. It’s like watching a movie. It’s like being a ghost. Which Chara technically is, or something like it, but at least in waking life they can pilot the body. In dreams, all they can do is watch.

One morning while Frisk was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, waiting for the kettle to boil, Chara slipped into the body and asked, conversationally, “So why are your dreams so fucking screwed up all the goddamn time?”

Frisk shoved at them without any real malice, without enough intent to really kick them out of the body. Just enough to warn them that it was time to stop. Chara persisted anyways. “I’m serious. Did you have the childhood from hell or are you just an incredibly screwed up individual?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I want to know. Normal people don’t dream about shit like that. You are one twisted kid.”

“Chara, stop.”

“No! I’ve had my fair share of nightmares, but yours are a whole new bucket of shit. Maybe if you’d actually admit you have problems for once in your life, I wouldn’t be forced to watch a fucked-up montage of you being molested every night for the rest of my goddamn life”

Immediately, Chara knows they went too far. Even when Frisk is ignoring them, their presence is always there. Chara can always feel them beside them. It’s never not been there. But now, suddenly, they’re completely alone in the body. Frisk is just _gone_ , left without a trace.

Chara pushes down the surge of panic and assures themselves _they’ll be back soon, they’re just more fed up with my shit than usual, they’ll get bored and come back._ When Frisk is still gone twenty minutes later, Chara’s inner monologue changes to _you fucking idiot, great job, you managed to drive someone **out of their own body to get away from you.** No wonder your dad left, you fuck-up, you brat, you demon. You’ve driven away the only good human you’ll ever meet._ By evening, Chara’s in hysterics. They’ve really fucked it up this time. Frisk is never coming back. They scream and punch the wall and cry. Toriel is out for the day, under the impression that Undyne will be babysitting, and Undyne’s at Alphys’. There’s no one around. Chara trashes the house. They destroy everything.

Frisk is back in the morning, and they silently pick up the aftermath. They don’t talk about it. Chara’s more cautious from then on.

* * *

 

Frisk won’t talk to Chara, but Chara talks to Frisk. They toss stories out casually. Here’s the first time I had a bone broken by a parent, here’s the time I burned myself badly while trying to cook hot dogs because I’d been unsupervised for days, here’s the time Mom beat Dad with a rolling pin and he finally left for good, here’s the time I ate cockroaches because I was so hungry, here’s the first time I ran away, here’s what Mom did to me when I came back. Here are my cigarette burns. Here are my scars. Here are the bones that were never set. Here are the stories that were never listened to, even when I told them again and again. Frisk listens.

Chara laughs about it a lot, so it’s not really a tragedy. They tell their stories like a _punch_ line-- get it? “You could say my childhood really was a _hit_!” They laugh. It’s funny. It’s funny.

The Dreemurrs know, of course. Chara gets hugs and reassurances and hot chocolate. Frisk gets less. Frisk wants it that way. Frisk wants to be forgotten. Chara seeks attention, pushes buttons, makes noise. They crave acknowledgement, whether it’s a hug or a slap in the face, because anything is better than being alone. Frisk knows there are much, much worse things than being alone.

Chara feels guilty. Chara threatens to tell Toriel about Frisk’s dreams. “We both know something happened to you. I don’t understand why you won’t talk about it. Toriel is good! She’s trustworthy! She’s not a human!”

Frisk says “If you tell her, I will leave. Forever.”

Chara keeps her mouth shut.

* * *

 

Frisk doesn’t make a sound when they cry. They find some corner to tuck themselves into, under the bed or in the closet, and they fall apart silently, out of the way. No one but Chara ever has the burden of watching. Sometimes Frisk tries to shut them out too, but Chara insists on sticking around.

Chara doesn’t like it. When you cry, the world should see it. Everyone should know that they made you suffer. Of course, they convey this opinion to Frisk by yelling it at them, and that makes them cry more.

They wish Asriel was still here. He is, but he’s different. The old Asriel would know how to convince Frisk that it’s okay to let the people who love you know that you’re sad. Flowey would join in on the yelling. God, he’s i _nsufferable_. He’s like a little Chara. _One me is bad enough_ , they think.

* * *

 

Frisk and Chara are making cookies and blasting music, shouting along to “Don’t Stop Me Now” while they stir chocolate chips into the batter. Flowey complains about their caterwauling, but they placate him with a spoonful of cookie dough. The sunlight shines in through the window, and Asgore is gardening in the yard. Every so often he looks up, and they wave at him.

They spend weekends at his house, and the rest of the week at Toriel’s. There are nightmares, of course, and tensions, and they’re two fucked-up, traumatized kids, but there’s good stuff now, too. Cooking lessons with Undyne and Paps. Sleepovers at Uncle Sans and Papyrus' apartment. Mario Kart tournaments with Flowey. Tulips in the yard and curtains on the windows. There’s always snacks in the kitchen, VHS tapes in the den, and Toriel or Asgore right in the other room. They go to school when they feel up to it, or they stay home and eat pb&j sandwiches and talk.

They’re two fucked-up, traumatized kids, but they have monsters who love them, and they’re going to be okay.


End file.
